


Faith Flavored Musicals: A Novel Method of Vampire Prevention for the 21st Century

by virdant



Series: A novel approach to the vampire conundrum [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: A lesson in how to communicate with your partner, Abstracts, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dalton Academy, Established Relationship, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Musicals, Science, Screenplay/Script Format, Vampires, poor communication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-16 09:37:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12340125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virdant/pseuds/virdant
Summary: “I’m just saying that there’s potential in studying how religious-themed musicals affect the undead!”Sebastian loomed over him. “And I’m saying that I will die and come back to life before you put me in a rainbow coat.”A research vampire AU.





	Faith Flavored Musicals: A Novel Method of Vampire Prevention for the 21st Century

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, I would not have produced this if it weren't for all of the lovely, wonderful, _terrible_ people in my lives.
> 
> First, to my group chat. Mikachi, who started research vampires 'verse by catching that one typo that one time, who turned it from a joke to a real thing when she sat on chat for three hours and summarized everything possible on vampire lore (not a joke, I have 6 pages back-to-front of notes just from that one night), who asked for research vampires when I was contemplating the prompts for the month and then sent me (slightly late), 3 vocal scores and 1 full libretto so I could research musicals. You are, and always remain, amazing. Pann: who alpha read everything, putting up with my random messages throughout the evening of "tell me that this is fine" and always had something nice to say. Adzusai, for putting up with the ridiculous messages as I roped the chat into helping me with my css pages. Thank you. 
> 
> Secondly, to the Seblaine Sunday mods; I'm sure that you were hoping for articles of a spooky nature when you posted the October prompts, but I have never been good at actually writing prompts straight. So this is my contribution; I would apologize, but I've decided to stop apologizing for the things I write, so there is no apology, just a rather apologetic explanation.
> 
> Thirdly, to the lovely people who follow me on tumblr. Your presence as I randomly screech into the void is, as always, delightful. It is a joy to know that there are people in the world who, somehow, have decided that my incoherency is worth following.
> 
> Written for the Oct. 15 Seblaine Sunday Halloween Prompt of "Supernatural".
> 
> Tentatively set in the same world as Raising the Stakes (my YOI vampire AU). You need to know absolutely nothing about that mostly abandoned fanfiction to read this fic, but if you want more research vampires...

* * *

#### Faith Flavored Musicals: A Novel Method of Vampire Prevention for the 21st Century

_Anderson, B., Smythe, S., Gane, S., Dalton Academy, Westerville, Ohio_  
_Journal of Vampire Prevention Research, August 2013_  
  
Or: Blaine and Sebastian Put On a Musical  
A Fanfiction in One Act

* * *

If you asked Blaine how this all started, he would say it was Sebastian’s fault. Sebastian, of course, would insist that he was blameless; turned over a new leaf after that night at the crossroads, he claimed. If you asked any of the other Dalton Academy students, however, they would point towards one day in August, right after classes had started, when Blaine and Sebastian had gotten into an argument over their senior thesis project.

“Hymn books,” Blaine protested, “have been used as a substitute for bibles as a vampire deterrent for ages.”

Sebastian took a long drag out of his coffee. “And non-religious music sung on a Sunday has been correlated to increased undead sightings.”

“But,” Blaine continued, ignoring the very audible roll of Sebastian’s eyes, “Doesn’t that just mean we should conduct the research?”

“Sure. Let’s go out to where the vampires are buried and you can sing to your heart’s content. I don’t have to get involved.”

“Sebastian,” Blaine huffed, “Senior Research Thesis is a _partnered_ project.”

“So I should get a say in the topic.”

“I’m just saying that there’s potential in studying how religious-themed musicals affect the undead!”

Sebastian loomed over him. “And I’m saying that I will _die and come back to life_ before you put me in a rainbow coat.”

But: Blaine was nothing if not determined, which is why the next day, he submitted their senior proposal—his teachers considered him charming, so they accepted the proposal despite Sebastian having “forgotten” to sign off on it—and then contacted Dalton’s music department to determine the logistics of putting on a musical while measuring undead activity in nearby areas.

“Well,” Ms. Lloyd said thoughtfully, “You’ll want to do multiple performances, of course, so you can gather control data.”

Blaine leaned forward eagerly. “I was thinking we’d do the full weekend. Friday evening, Saturday evening, and Sunday matinee.”

She hummed as she checked the schedule. “Well, if we schedule it far enough in advance—”

The door banged open. “That won’t be necessary,” Sebastian interrupted, striding in rather dramatically as the door bounced off of the wall and threatened to slam into him. He stopped the door with a hand, and Blaine couldn’t help the sigh; he had been so sure he was going to get all the logistics resolved before Sebastian found out. “We’re changing our thesis topic.”

“We can’t change it!” Blaine leapt to his feet. “I’ve already turned it in.”

“You’ve forgotten that all of the teachers love me more—” 

“They do not.”

“—so it really was child’s play to find your _incorrect_ proposal and replace it with our actual—”

“I didn’t sign it!”

“—proposal. Blaine,” Sebastian said, sounding increasingly put-upon. “Do you really think I can’t forge your signature?”

Blaine conceded the point. Sebastian had three fake IDs, one of which was an accurate depiction of Blaine Anderson, born April 16th, 1994, and included Blaine’s signature on the back. Blaine had never touched said ID in his life. Sebastian had called it his junior year civics project, and somehow managed to pass the class with an A despite the fact that he had actually forged a state identification card.

“Still,” Blaine protested, following Sebastian out of the music department office. “You can’t just change our senior thesis without consulting me.”

“You mean the same way you submitted this proposal without telling me?” Sebastian waved the familiar paper in front of Blaine’s face.

Blaine snatched at it, scowling when Sebastian lifted it above his head, putting it beyond his reach. He jabbed Sebastian over the heart with a finger—hard—and when Sebastian’s knees buckled slightly in shock, snatched the pilfered thesis proposal, only to pause as he read it.

“Sebastian,” Blaine began.

“Yeah,” Sebastian rolled his eyes and he straightened his tie.

“This says ‘approved.’”

“Much to my dismay.”

“You said—”

Sebastian sighed. “I was too late,” he conceded. “I found out when old Gane called me in to tell me the project was approved.”

Blaine could help the smile crawling over his face.

“But you still aren’t going to get me in a rainbow coat!”

“Oh,” Blaine said, grinning up at his research partner. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

* * *

“No.”

“Sebastian,” Blaine began.

“Absolutely not.”

“We go to an all-boys school.” Blaine said, as reasonably as he could. “So some of us are going to have to play the female parts.”

“Somebody has to collect the data,” Sebastian argued. “Since this is, after all, our Senior Research Thesis.”

Since its founding in 1897, Dalton Academy had been one of the bastions of high school level staking research in America. It turned out that a little distance from high population-density cities made for a safe haven to both educate the future while throwing in a bit of holy water and staking research. There was plenty of fresh dirt waiting to be turned over, and the local farmers never minded their kids getting some extracurricular help in what to do if the undead attached. Eventually, as more and more of their alumni ascended up the ranks of the United States Staking Association, the donations came in, and Dalton Academy students started publishing their research (first in conjunction with Ohio State, and then independently) in journals.

With this came the most hallowed of Dalton Academy traditions: _Senior Research Thesis_.

After three years of assisting in the surprisingly well funded research laboratories of Dalton Academy, Senior Research Thesis was a chance for the graduating class to show off their chops, potentially add a paper to their curriculum vitae, and, of course, conduct cutting-edge research under the guidance of a mentor from one of their many partner universities.

Blaine had, since the first time he saw a vampire deterred by a brandished hymnbook, been waiting for two years for Senior Research Thesis. He had been determined to combine his passions (music, specifically musical theatre) with his area of study (Vampire Prevention), and now that he was a senior, nothing would deter him.

Well, nothing except for Sebastian Smythe.

Sebastian had transferred in last year from Paris, co-author on two papers already. Sebastian had set his sights on Blaine, and Blaine had found himself with Sebastian: sneaking out of the dorms and driving to Scandals to study the effect of holy water in alcohol (and make out); spending hours under the moonlight to track undead activity in the Westerville cemetery (and make out); and sneaking into each other’s rooms to study (and make out). Somehow, that had led to Blaine finding Sebastian in their (now shared) dorm on their first day of senior year, Sebastian’s slow smirk at Blaine’s quizzical tilt of the head confirming what Blaine had always suspected since the first time he had laid eyes on Sebastian Smythe.

Senior Research Thesis was going to be an experience.

“Look, Blaine,” Sebastian said. He leaned over the table, his eyes unfamiliarly serious. “You got your topic. Leave me out of it.”

Blaine covered Sebastian’s hands with his own, smiling sweetly back. “Don’t worry,” he said. “We’re partners. We’ll do this together.” He paused. “Well, us and the rest of the school.”

Sebastian groaned, slumping in his seat. “That is exactly what I’m worried about.”

* * *

It turned out that most of the senior class, as well as the rest of the Dalton student body, were _delighted_ to assist.

“I’ve always wanted to put on a musical,” Trent said.

“It seems like an excellent way to end our high school career,” Thad added.

“Who’s playing the girl parts?” Nick asked.

Sebastian sighed.

Blaine stammered, “Well, y’know, it turns out that we can’t get Crawford County Day to help out so, uh, well, the parts are going to be divided—we’re going to do our best—maybe some of the freshmen will be comfortably vocally—”

“Cross-dress,” Sebastian interrupted, loudly. “Blaine means that some of you are going to have to cross-dress.”

The assorted seniors exchanged glances.

“Sure.” Jeff shrugged. “Where do I sign up?”

* * *

SCENE 5: DALTON ACADEMY SENIOR COMMONS

It’s late afternoon. Dalton Academy students mingle in a room. Several are sitting on leather couches. SEBASTIAN is sitting behind a large desk, BLAINE perched on the table by him. There is a low susurrus of sound as the students murmur. BLAINE jumps onto the table.

BLAINE

Can everybody hear me?

SEBASTIAN sighs.

SEBASTIAN

I’m sure everybody can.

BLAINE

I know you don’t want to be here, Sebastian.

SEBASTIAN

This is a research project. How is nobody collecting data for the research?

BLAINE

Don’t be such a mood sucker.

SEBASTIAN

I’m just looking out for your future, Killer.

BLAINE

Don’t call me that.

NICK DUVAL, in the crowd of students, turns.

NICK

Are we just here to watch you two flirt with each other?

SEBASTIAN

Thank you for your input, Duval. You can leave now. (aside) Then maybe we can stop this farce.

BLAINE

No, No. Nick, please stay. Sebastian didn’t mean that.

THAD HARWOOD rolls his eyes from his position beside SEBASTIAN behind the table. He adjusts his tie and cuffs.

THAD

I’m pretty sure he meant exactly what he said. 

SEBASTIAN (pleased)

Thank you, Harwood. For that, I’m pleased to announce that you will not have to cross-dress. In fact, you don’t have to participate at all.

THAD

What if I wanted to cross-dress?

SEBASTIAN

Do you?

THAD

No.

SEBASTIAN

Then we don’t have a problem, do we?

BLAINE (still on the table)

I was going to make announcements.

SEBASTIAN (eying Blaine’s ass)

By all means.

SEBASTIAN gestures as if to cede the floor (table) to BLAINE.

BLAINE (loudly)

Thank you all for coming. I would like to welcome you to the first rehearsal for Dalton Academy’s first musical production. 

The DALTON STUDENTS applaud.

BLAINE

Thank you. Thank you. This is doubling as Sebastian and my Senior Research Thesis project—we are investigating the impact of religiously inspired modern music on undead activity within a fifty mile radius. That’s why we’ve chosen to perform Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.

SEBASTIAN (in an undertone)

That’s why you decided.

BLAINE

And I’m very glad you all have chosen to join us.

A DALTON FRESHMAN, in the crowd, snorts.

DALTON FRESHMAN

Ms. Lloyd said I had to participate or she’d fail me.

BLAINE (cheerfully)

We’re both so glad that all of you have chosen to join us of your own free will! 

* * *

Sebastian said, “Does this look like a 50-mile radius?”

Blaine glanced up from the script he was studying to peer at the map Sebastian had printed out. “Probably,” he said, “Why?”

Sebastian arched an eyebrow. “Research _Thesis_?” He paused, clearly not satisfied with which word he emphasized and tried again. “ _Research_ Thesis?”

Blaine rolled his eyes. “We won’t get good data if we don’t put on a good performance.”

“We won’t get good data if we don’t define our parameters.” He rolled up the map and swatted Blaine’s ass affectionately. “You might be able to get by in life by shaking that ass, but some of us have to rely on our parents’ money.”

Blaine grinned back. “You might want to work on your metaphors. Besides, you don’t have anything to worry about, Mr. Co-Authored-Two-Papers-Before-I-Turned-Seventeen.”

“It is terrible to be rich and successful,” Sebastian agreed. “But you know what would be worse?”

“Do share.”

“If we made it an even three.” He unfurled the map. “Now, if you had bothered to do your research, you would know that there are no cemeteries within a 50 mile radius of the Dalton Academy Auditorium, so you have your choice of changing our thesis topic—”

“Not happening, Sebastian.”

“—or these three civic performing arts halls.”

Blaine put down his script. “I’m listening.”

Sebastian smirked. “The first…”

* * *

It turned out that there were many components to a musical. There were so many, rather, that Blaine found himself committing all of his energy to putting on a musical, and none of his energy into the logistics of collecting the data that the musical was supposed to generate. 

He had done research for years; first, under the guidance of professors from nearby Ohio State when he was a freshman, and then on his own, with Sebastian. He was used to balancing the precarious parts of large production. It turned out that single-handedly attempting to put on a musical was about as hard as running his own research project, with a side of classmate-wrangling. 

He was in the middle of musical logistics when Sebastian strode into their shared room and dumped a pile of papers onto Blaine’s desk. “Sign these.”

Blaine said, mildly, “I was working on this desk.”

“This is work.” Sebastian flung himself into his own, chewing gum with paticular vigor.

Blaine picked up the top form, a request to the USGS for seismometers. “Why are we requesting a hundred seismometers?”

“Detecting undead activity in nearby vicinities,” Sebastian replied promptly, popping his gum at the end.

“We shouldn’t need a hundred!”

“Better safe than sorry.”

Blaine ignored Sebastian, picking up the next form. “Satellite data from NASA?” 

“Yup.”

“Sebastian,” Blaine began, shuffling through the papers. Requests for access to local cemeteries. Requests to dig up crossroads. An agreement to provide Sebastian with blowjobs whenever he wanted. He fished it out of the pile with a scowl. “There is no way we need all of this.” He crumpled the blowjob agreement into a ball and hurled it at his face; Sebastian caught it with infuriating ease. “Especially not that.”

“Does that mean that you don’t need a signed agreement—”

“Sebastian!”

Sebastian stretched out his legs, leering. “Just checking.”

Blaine rolled his eyes. “Take off your pants. Let’s get this over with.”

“You could be a little more enthusiastic,” Sebastian argued, working at the placket of his uniform trousers.

“I have costumes to plan and lines to practice.” Blaine went to assist, settling on his knees as he unthreaded Sebastian’s belt. “You don’t want me to give a poor performance, do you?” He bit back a smile as he blinked up.

“Give a poor performance? You?” Sebastian’s fingers curled around Blaine’s cheek. “Never.”

* * *

Somehow, in the past months, Blaine’s half of the dorm room had gone from cozy, if a little small, to struggling to contain multitudes. He had photocopies of the score lying in scattered piles on the carpet. He had heaps of sequined fabric purloined from their parents and siblings’ closets. He had _sand_ , entire bags of it.

He had a mess, that was what he had. 

He had just started organizing the piles when Sebastian opened the door and blinked. “Are you planning on switching our topic to the validity of warding vampires with atrocious fashion sense?”

Blaine scowled from where he was hanging up costumes. “Are you just here to argue?”

“I also live here.” Sebastian stepped in, brandishing a paper. “Do you know who this is from? This is from the third performing arts hall in the area.”

“Okay.” Blaine said, slowly.

“Read it.”

“What does it say?”

“Dear Mr. Smythe—that’s me.”

“I know your name.” Blaine hung up another costume.

“Thank you for your interest in the Westerville Center for Performing Arts—recognize the location?”

It was a twenty-minute drive away, in downtown Westerville. Blaine had performed there multiple times, and also seen a fair share of local productions. The last time he had been there, a local theater group had put on Book of Mormon, and all of them had been handed a stake as they walked in just in case any feral vampires heard the music and decided to attack.

“Unfortunately, we regret to inform you that our stage has been booked for the dates you have requested.” Sebastian glanced up, smirking. “Get the picture? This is the third rejection. We can’t put on the musical. Alas. We’ll have to change our topic.”

Blaine shook his head. “We’ll just put it on in the school auditorium.”

“There isn’t a cemetery within a 50-mile radius of Dalton!”

“There’s the practice cemetery.” Part of the freshman Identification final was to go into the practice cemetery and look for signs of vampire births. Sebastian, who had transferred in as a junior, had never spent any time there, but Blaine had spent months when he was fifteen learning to identify what was disturbed and what was undisturbed dirt. 

“That isn’t a real cemetery.”

“But it’ll work,” Blaine argued. “It’s rigged to respond to the right stimuli.” 

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Are we testing a new hypothesis or not?”

Blaine shook his head, stepping forward to toy with the collar of Sebastian’s shirt. “Please. Let’s just do it at Dalton.”

Sebastian stared down at him, before rolling his eyes. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he said, and Blaine beamed into his chest.

* * *

And that could have been the end of it. Sebastian could have settled, Blaine could have continued persuading Sebastian through judicious application of sexual favors, and the Show Would Go On, as it must. And then one sunny day in October, as Blaine was rushing down the hallway, costumes in hand to try to wrangle a fitting out of the other Dalton students when he ran into a very solid, very peeved Sebastian holding a folder.

“Sebastian.” Blaine sighed from where he had ended up on the floor, the costumes scattered in a bedazzled, sequined mess. “A hand?”

Sebastian stared down at him, _his_ folder firmly clutched still. “My hands are full. But while you’re down there…”

Blaine rolled his eyes. “We’re in public.”

“What a pity.”

Blaine scowled, shaking the dust off of a sequined scarf. “What could be more important than our Senior Research Thesis?” he asked, jerking his chin at the folder.

“Our Senior Research Thesis,” Sebastian drawled back.

Blaine blinked. “Our thesis is the musical.”

“It’s an analysis of undead activity in the proximity of religiously-inspired music.” Sebastian tapped the folder. “So we need to monitor undead activity. But seeing as you can’t even see where you’re going—”

“Seriously?”

“—now, I can’t imagine you you’ll be able to see anything when you’re _standing on a stage performing_.”

“Is this what it’s about?” Blaine shook his head. “I don’t have time for this.” He crossed his arms as best as he could while holding a pile of sequined fabric. “I’m going to rehearsal.”

Sebastian snorted.

“And we’re not changing our topic!” Blaine shouted. “It’s been approved for months now!”

* * *

SCENE 10: DALTON ACADEMY AUDITORIUM

It’s Saturday morning. A crowd of Dalton Academy students mingle on stage, several of them out of breath after a vigorous rehearsal. Most of them have shucked off their blazers, leaving them in button-ups with the collars loosened and their sleeves rolled up. A few of them are wearing wigs. BLAINE stands on a precarious wooden structure, half-built, waving his arms until the crowd quiets. SEBASTIAN stands next to said wooden structure, arms crossed.

BLAINE

If I can have your attention please? Thank you! Excellent! I think we’re doing really well.

SEBASTIAN

If you ignore the fact that we haven’t gotten permits for our recording equipment.

BLAINE (ignoring Sebastian)

I want to thank everybody again for helping me and Sebastian with our research thesis.

SEBASTIAN (aside)

Blaine’s thesis.

BLAINE (to Sebastian)

Do you have a problem, Sebastian?

SEBASTIAN

Let’s just call it as it is. This is your idea, and I’m just assisting that perky ass of yours.

BLAINE

I—

SEBASTIAN

Can’t admit it?

BLAINE

Are we really going to have this argument again here?

SEBASTIAN

Why not?

BLAINE

Sebastian, we’re in public.

SEBASTIAN

Great! Witnesses. They’ll all be able to testify if this ever goes to court.

BLAINE

Why would this even go to court?

THAD clears his throat.

THAD

I think you guys should have some privacy for this argument.

SEBASTIAN (sharply)

This isn’t an argument. This is just Blaine’s opinion. Blaine’s musical. Blaine’s research thesis.

BLAINE

Sebastian—

SEBASTIAN (standing)

Call me when you’re ready to be partners.

SEBASTIAN strides out of the Auditorium. The door SLAMS shut behind him.

BLAINE (staring at the door)

I—

BLAINE turns away.

BLAINE

Let’s just keep rehearsing.

* * *

For over a year, Blaine had been the sole victim of Sebastian’s single-minded focus. Sebastian had transferred to Dalton, set his sights on Blaine Anderson (top student in the Class of 2013 for two years running) and decided that he was going to get into Blaine’s terribly tailored trousers. And, after a cold night at a crossroads—Sebastian had lounged against the side of his car and Blaine had clutched a stake with increasingly hysterical fear—Blaine had succumbed to post-adrenaline poor-judgement and made out with Sebastian sans trousers. They had continued: making out, not sneaking out of their dorm to stake vampires at crossroads, though the latter did happen occasionally—until now.

Blaine sighed. It wasn’t the lack of sex. It wasn’t anything. It was just—

Blaine spent an evening sorting through the papers that had accumulated on his desk. More than just requests for seismographs that he had never signed and sent off, Sebastian had been leaving his receipts. Blaine glared at a particularly damning bill from Scandals; Sebastian hadn’t even invited him!

He crumbled it into a ball before thinking better and unfurling it, smoothing the creases and checking the date perfunctorily before sliding it to join the rest of the receipts from October.

It was just Sebastian.

Blaine sighed again. He was sifting through the papers on his desk when the door opened and Sebastian walked in, ignoring Blaine completely.

“Hey,” Blaine began.

Sebastian ignored him in favor of shucking off his uniform; he hung up the blazer and tie, dumped the trousers and dress-shirt in a laundry hamper, peeled off his undershirt to reveal well-defined pectoral muscles and familiar abs, soft skin over hard muscle that rippled as he laughed—

Blaine blinked furiously

“Hey,” Blaine tried, again.

Sebastian turned around to flick off the room light—Blaine hastily turned on his desk lamp—and then got under the covers of his bed.

“Sebastian.”

“Good night, Blaine,” Sebastian said pointedly, and twitched the covers over his head.

Blaine stared at the papers. He sighed, tossing the pile of receipts onto his desk before crawling into his own bed. “Good night.”

* * *

Halfway through their junior year, Blaine had wondered what it would be like without Sebastian around every corner. He had, wistfully, thought it would be nice to be able to get a cup of coffee at the coffee shop downtown without Sebastian showing up to flirt with the barista. He had, even more wistfully, thought it would be nice to flirt with that cute boy sitting in the corner without Sebastian sticking his hands in Blaine’s back pockets and whispering filthy offers to teach Blaine how to handle his stake.

The problems of Last Year’s Blaine seemed so ridiculous now.

He went to class—Sebastian sat in the back instead of taking his usual seat beside Blaine in the front—and to lab alone. Sebastian passed him a beaker of holy water and Blaine found himself trying to touch Sebastian through two layers of nitrile gloves. Sometime last year, Blaine had stopped taking detailed notes, growing accustomed to reviewing the day’s material with Sebastian, and now he found himself studying late into the night after rehearsals, alone, while Sebastian lounged in his bed and texted away on his phone.

Trent had asked him, a month after Blaine had become one half of Blaine-and-Sebastian, what Blaine would do if Sebastian decided to stop bothering him. Blaine had, rather foolishly, declared that he was an independent researcher who didn't need some prodigy from Paris who had already co-authored two papers.

“Doesn’t quite roll off the tongue,” Trent had said, amiably, “but your vehemence is noted.”

This Year’s Blaine didn’t last two weeks. He thumped his head against his notes—his notes that he hadn’t had to spend nearly as much time and effort on previously—and turned. “Sebastian.”

Sebastian ignored him.

“Sebastian.”

Rather passive-aggressively, Sebastian turned on the tap sound of his keyboard and clicked furiously away.

Blaine rolled his eyes and summmoned all of his dramatic ability. “Oh no! There’s a bat at our window.”

Sebastian heaved an enormous sigh. “Seriously?”

Blaine tried to look contrite, but it was hard when Sebastian was agreeing to a conversation after fourteen days of silence. “Look. I know you're mad at me, but it’s really too late to make a change. Can’t we just… do our own thing and see where it gets us? I put on the musical and you do what you want?”

Sebastian snorted. “Sure.”

Blaine sighed in relief. “And you’ll talk to me again?”

Sebastian stood, heading to his closet to change into a fresh shirt and pull on a jacket. “Sure.”

He eyed his homework and said, hopefully, “Can you explain how to calculate strigoi planes of motion when crossing bodies of water?”

“Don’t push your luck.” Sebastian tightened the knot of his tie. “I’m heading out.”

Blaine did not sound whiny. “Where?”

Sebastian said, “Scandals.” He eyed Blaine up and down, before turning away. “Don’t wait up.” Surprisingly, he didn't slam the door.

Blaine scowled back. So maybe that didn't go so well. “I didn't want to go anyways,” he shouted at the door. There was a thud from Nick and Jeff in the room next door, and Blaine thumped the wall in return. “Bastard.” 

* * *

Sebastian spent the next few evenings—and afternoons—out at Scandals.

Blaine ground his molars together as he worked through a staking calculation. It seemed so banal; when was Blaine ever going to need to know the exact amount of force to pierce vampire flesh given a blunted yew stake? When they had worked on problems together, Sebastian’s general irreverence had compelled Blaine to care more, and without Sebastian, Blaine found himself thinking thoughts such as:

 _I didn't need to calculate this when I was actually faced with a vampire_.

He hurled his pencil— _always use a pencil, Blaine. They can be used as a stake in a pinch_ —onto the table into the pile of papers he still hadn’t sorted. He weighed the benefits of finishing his Destruction Theory homework with procrastinating and cleaning off his desk, and grabbed a handful of receipts.

The first one was from October 15th, just last week. Sebastian had ordered three cocktails, each more ridiculously named than the last. He was preparing to crumple it—not in jealousy—when he paused. 

Sebastian always got the same drink at Scandals, whiskey on the rocks. But this receipt wasn’t for whiskey. In fact, it didn’t even have Sebastian’s credit card number on it, but some stranger’s, and on the back…

On the back, it said: _connect cameras to power line, check feed recording nov. 11, 7pm_.

And directly underneath: _email Gane server access 200 cameras + seismometers 2 weeks non-stop recording_.

Blaine stared, and then flipped through the rest of the papers. Cameras, seismometers, server access for all of the data they would need to collect. Sebastian had set everything up for them to analyze undead activity during the musical.

* * *

SCENE 14: BLAINE AND SEBASTIAN’S DORM ROOM

It is a Friday evening, two weeks before the Dalton Academy performance of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. BLAINE is sitting at his desk, head bent over his phone. He is visibly worried, chewing his lip and running a hand through his hair. He is still in his uniform, though sans blazer, which is tossed haphazardly on his bed. His tie has been loosened and his shirtsleeves are pushed up, messily, instead of being neatly rolled. He is sighing when SEBASTIAN walks in.

SEBASTIAN

What’s up?

BLAINE

The sophomore who was going to play Mrs. Potiphar dropped out.

SEBASTIAN

And what does that have to do with me?

BLAINE

We don’t have anybody who can do it.

SEBASTIAN

Does this mean you’ve finally seen the error of your ways?

BLAINE (sighing)

Sebastian. I miss you.

SEBASTIAN inhales sharply

BLAINE

I shouldn’t have submitted the thesis proposal without checking with you.

SEBASTIAN

You did check with me. I said no.

BLAINE

Actually, you just said you weren’t going to wear a rainbow coat. But—

SEBASTIAN

I’m pretty sure I also said no to the musical.

BLAINE

I don’t think you said anything about it at all. Anyways, I’m trying to apologize. You’d think your ego would shut up and let me finish.

SEBASTIAN

My apologies. Continue.

BLAINE

Thank you. Give me a moment to remember where I was before you interrupted me.

SEBASTIAN

You shouldn’t have submitted the thesis proposal.

BLAINE

Right. Sebastian. I’ve just been so excited about this idea since… well, years ago. I got caught up in this idea of a grand performance that I didn’t really think about how it would affect you.

SEBASTIAN

It was a surprising change of pace.

BLAINE

What?

SEBASTIAN

I’m pretty sure I called dibs on being selfish and egocentric.

BLAINE

What?

SEBASTIAN

Think about it. You might be sex on a stick and sing like a dream, but I’m rich and successful. If anybody’s supposed to get their way in this relationship, it should be me.

BLAINE

I didn’t get that memo. Besides, I wasn’t quite finished.

SEBASTIAN

Please. Continue.

BLAINE

Uh. Adrien had to drop out. I was hoping you could take over his part.

SEBASTIAN

Didn’t you pick understudies?

BLAINE

I want you to be a part of this. With me.

SEBASTIAN

Oh.

BLAINE

What do you think?

SEBASTIAN

It seems pretty short notice to learn a completely new part.

BLAINE

I know you had the script memorized the second I picked the musical. I saw you memorizing it.

SEBASTIAN

And not even a leading role…

BLAINE

I figured you’d like this part. You get to rip off my clothes on stage.

SEBASTIAN

That’s a pretty enticing reason.

BLAINE

So you’ll do it?

SEBASTIAN

I’ll think about it.

BLAINE

Sebastian, I want to do this with you.

SEBASTIAN sighs

SEBASTIAN

Damnit, fine. Yes, Blaine Anderson—don’t look at me like that—yes, I’ll be in your musical.

SEBASTIAN and BLAINE kiss.

SEBASTIAN

But you have to help me set up all of the cameras in a 50 mile radius around here.

BLAINE

Deal.

SEBASTIAN and BLAINE kiss again.

* * *

And, really, that should have been it. Blaine should have made an excellent Joseph, singing his heart out to an enraptured audience. Sebastian, looking very fetching in his wig, should have been an excellent Mrs. Potiphar, enthusiastically ripping Blaine’s costume and throwing in a few extra squeezes of Blaine’s ass for good measure. Their classmates, of course, would rise to the occasion admirably, singing and dancing with aplomb—

And then the vampire rushed on stage just as Blaine belted _for we have been promised a land of our own_ and promptly crumpled into a pile of dust.

“Well,” Sebastian said once they had managed to finish refunding tickets, “You know what they say.”

“I told you so?” Blaine eyed the smoldering remains. He nudged it with a toe, wondering if ashes were supposed to smoke like that.

“The show must go on.”

Blaine couldn’t help the smile as it crept across his cheeks. He tempered it, pointed out, “The musical’s over. The audience left when the vampire broke into the auditorium.”

“True,” Sebastian said rather cheerfully as he swept the remains into a sample tube. “But there’s always the chance of an encore. And really, musicals do have a lot of variables.”

“What?”

“Oh, you know.” He waved a hand. “Costumes. Music. Cute boys shaking their asses as they get their clothes ripped off.”

“Sebastian!”

“We really can’t come to a conclusion until we’ve controlled all of the variables.”

Blaine blinked, before he caught onto Sebastian’s point. He grinned. “Oh?”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Don’t make me say it.”

“But Sebastian,” Blaine purred, pressing up against the long planes of his chest and reaching down to entwine their fingers together. He batted his eyelashes, as best as he could with the mascara that was still lingering after their curtailed performance today. “Think about the data.”

Sebastian stared down at him, before he sighed. “Really?”

“Do it for science?”

“Fine.” He brought their hands up to his lips in a lingering kiss. “Blaine Anderson. Will you put on a musical with me?”

Blaine grinned back. “I thought you’d never ask.”

* * *

* * *

Three musicals based off religious faiths (Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, Jesus Christ Superstar, and Book of Mormon) were performed by the Dalton Academy students and their effect on undead activity in the area was monitored. Using the Kunze method, baseline measurements of undead activity in the area were observed and recorded and compared to the activity during and directly after performances. The Kunze measurements indicate increased activity on Sunday but decreased activity on other days of the weekend, which included performances on Friday evening, and Saturday evening. While overall activity increased during Sunday matinee performances, the effects of religious musical theater pieces demonstrate strong destructive force in close proximity, making it an effective close-proximity deterrent for undead behavior. Destruction studies on the impact of religious music on undead flesh corroborate this result.

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**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr ([@virdant](http://virdant.tumblr.com)) for updates on my writing, rants on the untailored trousers of s2 glee, and why polyester blazers are a terrible idea.
> 
> in the next two weeks, we will see if i can produce auction-boyband fic (tentatively planned), but otherwise, the tumblr will be returning to ghost marriage sequel updates.
> 
> post-writing commentary here [[x](http://virdant.tumblr.com/post/166770103401/fic-glee)]; annotated PDF only here [[x](https://www.dropbox.com/s/edinjtqx4loyema/faith_flavored_musicals_annotated.pdf?dl=0)]


End file.
